


sunday, 5am

by cacaoflavoured



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 14:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cacaoflavoured/pseuds/cacaoflavoured
Summary: They awaken and the Sunday is sugary sweet.





	

Sunday morning is a pretty haze.

You awaken slowly when someone’s arm tightens around your waist. When you make a quiet noise in protest, the arms surrounding you relax.

“… Sorry,” you hear, a timid and groggy mumble against your neck. “I–”

“– Had a bad dream, right?” You finish the sentence, turning to face the voice. You bashfully acknowledge the dull pain in your lower body.

Saeyoung’s brows are softly knit together. You reach out to touch his face and he leans into your touch receptively.

“No, just had one of those falling dreams,” he answers, far too quickly. A kind-hearted lie. He did that all the time. Pulled out the little white lies to preempt any worrying.

“I’m here,” you say anyway. He softens considerably.

“You are,” he affirms.

He runs his long and gentle fingers through your hair. The expression on his face is mostly unreadable, but you manage to parse a conglomerate of things– this expression… it is warm. It is vulnerable. It is immensely sweet.

His eyes are dark and glowing beneath his red fringe. Adoring.

“Jagiya…” he whispers, flushing all the way to his ears.

“Yes?” You prompt, smiling at his earnestness.

“Do you, uh,” he starts, before shaking his head quickly and sitting up in haste. The crisp white sheet covering his body falls in response to his sudden movement.

“A-Ah, sorry,” he blurts, scrambling to cover himself again.

You laugh at his nervousness and sit up beside him. Your fingertips find the soft as down wisps of crimson hair hanging shaggily above his eyes. You search his strange yellow eyes.

“Say it properly, Saeyoung. What is it?”

He stiffens, averting your gaze expertly.

“Do you… wanna get married?” He fidgets, fingers tapping nervously against your pillow. One of his strange mannerisms. Endearing to you, but perhaps a tad awkward to a mere stranger. He did it a lot– tapped things rhythmically whenever in wait. Oftentimes louder than he likely thought. One, two, one.

When you can’t muster an immediate response, you sense his fear.

“I love you more than anything,” he confesses clumsily, voice rich with emotion. He clears his throat before continuing.

“I loved you since I first stalked–” he widens his eyes in panic, drops his shoulders sheepishly, “– I mean, saw, you.”

“Shit,” he curses with a grin, when he catches you trying to stifle a giggle out of the corner of his eye. “Well, I didn’t stalk you in the very beginning. Actually, I saw a picture of you and then I decided to do some research, you see! Anyway, I was saying–”

You watch him swallow.

“I know it’s not that romantic to propose like this, after we just…” he clears his throat, “You know. But after everything and waking up beside you, I just can’t wait anymore. I want you to wake up beside me like this every day. I don’t know if you want that too?

“I was actually planning something bigger and uh… less spontaneous! Jaehee even helped me organize it all. I was planning to drive us down by the beach where Zen’s doing that musical on Tuesday. He got us tickets to see the show in the VIP section! And after that, I was going to take you to that fancy restaurant that Jumin goes to every Saturday. You know, that one? The one with fancy clam dish that he put up as his profile picture. I told you about it and you came over and I saw you drool, and you kept lying and saying you weren’t drooling at all. Also also also, I even–”

“Sure,” you say simply, with a brief nod. It was so charming, the way that he would dissolve into mile-a-minute run-on sentences in his anxiousness.

“– Got Yoosung to learn how to use the really high-tech Ganon camera I learned to use at the party, and he was going to take pictures when I got down on one knee and awesomely asked to fly off to the space station with… what?”

“Sure,” you reassert, filled to the brim with childish delight. He was everything that you didn’t know you’d wanted. Peculiar. Exquisite. An acquired taste.

“Okay,” he nods dumbly. Breathing deeply for the first time in a while.

You chuckle, and the chuckle erupts into boisterous laughter. His silvery laughter joins yours in chorus– at first, a little uncertain, as though he hadn’t yet discerned what had happened. Then, louder. A melodious and happy sound. You let it fill your ears.

The morning is airy, brighter all of a sudden. Perfect.

“How many kids do you want to have?” He gushes, eyes like twinkling golden stars. “I think twin genes are pretty strong in my family. My uh, grandpa, has a twin brother. Had. Had? My dad’s wife went and had twins too. So uh, if you want less than two, I don’t know if we-”

“3 or so,” you interject mildly, watching his eyes crinkle in response.

You love his smile. It is awfully childlike for someone who puts up such a mature facade– parts of his gums and all of his teeth show. His genuine smile is always so big and wide that his eyes become little golden crescent moons.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “3′s a good number.”

A thought occurs to you and you can’t help but feel a bit wicked.

“How about 7?” You ask innocently. You can’t suppress your snicker.

For once, you’ve stumped the self-professed god of comedy. Saeyoung looks a little flabbergasted… a little lost for words. You crumple like a paper ball in mirth, shaking like a leaf. Finally! You’ve managed to get out a joke to be proud of. His expression, it’s just too hilarious a sight!

Saeyoung is quiet for a moment longer, before he begins to shift from his spot. He stands in his naked glory and retrieves the glass of water on the nightstand, offering it to you. You still can’t stop laughing. You’re hunched over with your arms clutched desperately at your sides.

You have just a moment to see his face (an eyebrow raised, lips slightly quirked) and before you know it, he is on you. Over you. All around you. Time slows.

You’ve caved in with your laughter, so he untangles you with such tenderness your heart aches. He removes the coverings you’ve been holding to your chest to stay modest– breaks apart your cocoon of bedsheets. He takes crossed arms and allocates them to each of your sides. He seeks out your fingers with the most delicate of touches and brings your hands to either side of your head.

You flush furiously at your precarious pose.

He looks mischievous, hovering over you like that. He carries his gaze from the fan of your hair, to the rise and fall of your chest, to your exposed stomach, to… well, it makes you shiver. Then, his golden eyes are on your own, his stare so terrible yet lovely, unsettling yet comforting. You feel nervous because he does that thing; ogles at your past, present, future. Extracts information. Savours it. You feel so utterly naked (both literally and figuratively), splayed languidly on the bed for him. You cook under the heat of his eyes: two warm, yellow coals. You look anywhere but at him.

“7 sure seems like hard work…” he offers.

He must know he is being frustrating and provocative. You watch him swallow now. You can’t help but swallow in turn.

This is a bit like what happened last night– he is silly, tremulous, tender, and so much himself. Then, something clicks. Seemingly out of nowhere, he turns into a completely different animal. An animal in heat with burning eyes. When he loves, he is wild and ardent. When he loves, he forces your breaths to hitch in your throat (you have to remember to breathe). Forces your feeble mind to lose control over your body (he manipulates it like those numbers that he loves so much). Forces you to reciprocate with the same intensity (and how did he get you so addicted to that kind of fervour anyway?). Wherever did he learn to do that?

You stop breathing when his first kiss is pressed to the hollow of your throat. He proceeds to nip at your flesh– makes a point to mark your body torturously. You want to see the kind of art he’s been leaving on you. Mine, mine, mine. His mouth bites and suckles, tickles and soothes. Mine, mine, mine.

All his.

You yield.

He jumbles you up again. Blends you and him into a messy paste. This time, it is his fingers threaded with yours. His legs and your legs all a knot. Your fingernails in his back. He masterfully loops and ties your heartstrings around a boy called Saeyoung, Luciel, sometimes 707. Mine now. All mine.

It turns out that with each movement he makes you forget when you started loving him, which him you started loving first. All he has you know is that you love him, present tense. All of him. Every him. You love this moment– the pain and pleasure of it all. The way your bodies intertwine; lock and key. You are in love with every moment with him.

And you thought he had merely cracked the code of your heart. Saeyoung is a hacker to his core– he breaks down the secrets of your body that you didn’t even know. He is a man of many talents. You try to never forget this.

His ragged breath fills your ear. You hear his want, so you let his heat consume you. One with his fire, as it should be. You let it burn higher and higher. Fan the flames.

“… But you should know by now I’m a big fan of that number. Let’s get to work…”


End file.
